Feminine
by The Pixess
Summary: Mark uses a rather...desperate technique to try to win back Maureen. The crackfic that inspired LostOzian's hit Scandalicious Princess, tied winner of Best Parody in Thespian Wolf's Wicked Fanfiction Awards [even though it's a RENT fic. Go figure.]


**Disclaimer: RENT belongs to Jonathan Larson, and THANK YOU JESUS FOR LETTING ALL THE BUGS IN MY COMPUTER FINALLY GET SORTED OUT!!!**

Even when she was trying to sneak in, Maureen always found a way to get her entrance noticed. So when she _wanted_ attention, like now, it was no real chore for her to throw her duffle bag on the floor, scream, "I'M MOVING IN FOREVER AND IF YOU KICK ME OUT I'LL JUST FLIRT WITH BENNY UNTIL HE GIVES ME MY OWN PLACE!", and flop down on the couch between Angel and Collins as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Mimi walked out of the kitchen, Roger at her heels and a scowl on her face. "That is _not_ how I got free rent, Mo," she informed the diva tartly.

"Like I care," Maureen snapped at her.

"_Someone's PMSing!_" Collins sang out.

"I am not!" she wailed. "I'm never setting foot in that apartment again- not as long as that OCD, unsupportive excuse for a lawyer is there!"

"What happened, honey?" Angel asked sympathetically.

The rest of the Bohemians clustered around as Maureen described "The Events that Illuminated Her to the True Nature of Her Demonic Ex-Partner" (or "their zillionth breakup this week," as Roger put it.)

"So," she began, suppressing a sob, "I was just walking down 41st, and I saw a nickel on the ground over by the curb, so I went over to pick it up and there it was, my future! Broad-"

A collective groan passed across the room. "Mo," Mimi said, pleading. "PLEASE do not tell me you actually tried out for a Broadway play!"

"Well, why not?" Maureen asked defensively.

"But, chica," Angel said bewilderedly, "What about your performance art?"

Maureen waved her hand airily. "I am a multi-talented performer and am fully capable of taking my skill to a new medium."

While the rest of them choked back their laughter, Maureen continued unawares. "So there it was, Broadway! Actually, I wasn't so stoked at first- I just stood there, wondering why in the world anybody would stand in a line all day in the rain for a two hour show, when I looked up and there was a billboard said one of the cast members of the show was leaving and that they were holding auditions for her replacement!"

"And this was exciting…why?" Roger asked slowly.

Maureen shrugged. "Well, it's _The Wiz_, and I've always wondered what it would be like to be covered in green paint all day."

They all stared blankly at her.

"They need a new Witch of the West," Maureen said matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything.

"Um…" Mimi said, not even knowing where to start.

"So I take it Jo didn't go for your new career as a lesbian thespian?" Roger asked lightly, trying not to crack up.

"She went ballistic!" Maureen cried. "She asked if I was high and then told me that I would just be wasting the casting director's time with my shenanigans. Shenanigans! Who even _says_ that anymore? Can you believe that?"

Since they could not only believe it, but they though Joanne had gone rather easy on her, the group kept their mouths shut.

"I am never going back there!" Mo declared. "It is over between us! Over, over, OVER! How can I be with someone who doesn't support my dreams? She's so cold, so pessimistic! I can't have people in my life who bring me down!"

While everyone else tried to convince Maureen that Joanne _did_ support her- every month, by paying the bills?- Mark, who had been sitting quietly during the whole affair, snuck up behind Mimi and Angel. Covering both of their mouths, he dragged both of them into his room and closed the door with an ominous _click_.

"What the fuck???" Mimi cried once the filmmaker let go.

Mark ignored her. "I need you guys," he said pitifully.

Mimi raised an eyebrow. "Um, Marky, in case you haven't noticed, were both kinda taken."

"But SHE'S not, anymore," Mark said desperately, pointing back toward the living room.

They both stared at him. "Mark," Angel said slowly, "You can't mean…you don't still…" she faltered.

"Yes" he cried so emotional that the girls were kind of creeped out. "I still love her, okay???"

"No," Mimi said, in the same voice she used on investment bankers who couldn't understand the difference between an exotic dancer and a prostitute. "No, not okay, Mark. Maureen is a lesbian now. As in, gay. Not happy gay, _gay_ gay. I'm-a-girl-that-likes-other-girls-not-boys-gay."

"Technically gay means you like guys- like Mimi, your gay, and I'm a lesbian, because I like girls. Specifically, Maureen."

"Don't be a smart-ass," said Mimi, annoyed. "The point is, MAUREEN DOES NOT LIKE GUYS. Specifically, _you._"

Mark remained unabashed. "So? We can change that."

"No, we can't."

"Can so."

"Can not."

"Can _so_."

"Can _not_."

"Can-"

"MARK!!!"

"Chill, Meems," Mark said concernedly, as though _she_ was the one talking like a crazy person. "All I'm saying is, Mo is very fickle, and very open-minded. So even though, I'll admit, she's been permanently transferred to the other team, there are certain- er- _options_ that can be pursued that can get her to like me again."

Angel cut in here. "That's great, Mark," she said soothingly. "And if you somehow wind up with enough money for that operation, Mimi and I will be right there in the waiting room to cheer you on. But until then, we're just gonna-"

She yanked Mimi toward the door, hoping to make a break for it, but Mark stopped them with a crushing grip on Angel's arm.

"I'm way too broke for surgery- and too delicate," Mark said, his eyes darting about anxiously. "Besides, I don't need to…I just need- oh, the heck with it- Ang, will you make me a woman?????"

Angel blinked. "Okay, seriously," she said, addressing the exotic dancer, "What is that girl brainwashing her beaux with, and where can I get some?"

"Please," Mark whimpered.

Mimi, her limbs trembling and her eye twitching, muttered, "Mark, either your high or your out of your mind. Either way, we're leaving."

"You CAN'T go!" Mark screeched, flinging his hands around her legs.

"Look, Psycho-Boy," Mimi snarled, truly pissed off now, "Either you let me go right now, or I'll scream till the boys think that weirdo oriental guy from the Catscratch followed me home again and break the door down. Your choice."

"Mimi!" he wailed, and to her bewilderment she saw he had started to cry. "Please! You have to understand! Haven't you ever had to resort to something psycho to get the one you love to realize you're the one for them?"

"Um," Mimi said hesitantly. "Does purposefully blowing out a candle during a power outage so that you can barge into a hot guy's apartment count?"

"Yes!" cried Mark.

"Only if you blew out the candle more than twice," Angel amended.

Mimi counted on her fingers. "Dang it! I knew I'd regret coming back for the smack one day!"

"See, you do understand!" Mark said eagerly. "So you'll help???"

"I guess," Mimi muttered dejectedly.

Angel's mouth dropped open. "You can't be serious!!!"

Mimi shrugged. "Who knows? It could be fun- in a weird, twisted way."

"Are you using again?"

"ANGEL!!!"

The cross dresser pulled herself up to her full height. "I will not be any part of this crazy- pardon me, I meant CrAzY- scheme," she said with dignity.

"Okay," Mimi said brightly. Mark shot her a panicked look and mouthed, _WE NEED HER_, frantically, but she ignored him. "We'll just do it ourselves- c'mon, Mark, let's try on some of Aunt Mimi's outfits…let's see, how about this orange one…?"

In a flash, Angel was at her side, yanking the hanger out of her hands. "Are you MAD, woman???" she roared. "Orange, with his complexion? And his HAIR? You really ARE using!"

Mimi grinned. "So will you help me, in all my tastelessness?"

Angel pressed her lips into a firm line. "No."

"Oooh, but I've got you're number now!" Mark proclaimed, leaping onto the bed. "You can't stand anyone else giving beauty tips, can you???"

"Not true!!!"

"There, there, Angel," Mark said smoothly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Give in to it. When someone needs a make-over, you simply have to take over! And I know, that you know, exactly, what I need!"

"What?" both girls said blankly.

"Yes!" Mark cried, jumping off the bed and doing a little flip. "And even in my case-though I may be the toughest case you've yet to face- I'm determined you'll succeed! Come on, Ang, do a good deed! 'Cause I need. To. Be.

"Feminine!

Please help me be feminine!

Teach me to toss my curls,

Like the other girls!

Little ways to flutter and flit

Show me what heels to wear,

Or at least to care,

About make-up and other shit

That's Feminine!

I need to be feminine!

And with help from you

To make Maureen my boo

It's nearly guaranteed

That I will be a belle, as sure as I can tell

The height of femininity!"

"Okay," Mimi whispered, "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he has gone crazy."

"_Maybe?!_" Angel hissed.

"Alright, definitely," Mimi grudged. "How long do you think it'll take us to inch toward the door?"

Angel glanced at her watch. "About… three minutes and forty four seconds?"

"Damn! I guess we'll just have to wait it out then."

"Angel, I am a depressed creature!

My only prepossessing feature

Is that I make films and even they

Kinda suck

But. If. You.

Took me underneath your wing

Maureen and I could have a fling

And then you

Wouldn't have to listen to me

Sing!"

At this promise, both girls fell over themselves to help Mark with his transformation. It turned out, however, that Mark simply couldn't help himself, and sang under his breath as the two of them worked. But both Angel and Mimi agreed that him singing " Rose-colored sashes and soot-colored lashes/pink ribbons and bows, heaven only knows/ how I will look, but if it will hook/ Maureen's attention I wouldn't care if it cost a year's pension!" was better than his original song (if only because they could say they needed to apply more lipstick whenever they reached a breaking point.)

In the end, Mark somehow managed to wind up in a pink taffeta dress, the Pussy Galore wig Angel had worn for New Years and left at the loft, and the pink platforms off Angel's own feet. In short, he had the appearance of a drag queen waiter/ess at a woman's strip club.

"How do I look???" Mark asked eagerly.

"Um," said Mimi.

"Why, Mark, just look at you! You're beautiful!" Angel exclaimed, lying through her teeth.

"I-I have to go show everyone!" he cried, and scurried out of the room.

Mimi examined Angel's expression. "So, how do you think the guys are gonna react to this?" she asked sardonically.

"They'll be terrified! But not quite as terrified as…Maur…EEN!!!!"

**A/N: Wow. That sucked even worse than I thought. Oh well; to be honest, that was just a desperate attempt to get "Popular" out of my head, and I wanted to see how I could revamp the lyrics. Moral of the story: don't let Pixess near a laptop when there is sugar in her system.**


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